


The Fall

by JarOfJam



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Drug Abuse, Drug Addiction, Drug Use, Jim Moriarty in Sherlock's Mind Palace, M/M, Overdosing, Sherlock is a Mess, Sherlock's Mind Palace
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-28
Updated: 2020-08-28
Packaged: 2021-03-06 14:13:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,794
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26160193
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JarOfJam/pseuds/JarOfJam
Summary: Sherlock takes too much and overdoses, Mycroft finds him on the brink with the dreaded list of drugs.Oh and Jim actually saves the day.
Relationships: Sherlock Holmes/Jim Moriarty, Sherlock Holmes/John Watson
Comments: 4
Kudos: 32





	The Fall

After taking a concoction of drugs, only meant to cure boredom, Sherlock slumps down onto the sofa as he always does, staring up at the ceiling. But he isn't at 221b Baker Street this time, he's in some drug den, surrounded by other addicts and junkies.

Not even half an hour later and he realises something's wrong, he barely moves to sit up and his head swims, his vision blurred by dizziness. Sherlock moves a hand to his head, his arm aches and his forehead is doused with sweat, he has to lay back down and squeeze his eyes shut, feeling nauseous and recognising these symptoms,

"Shit..."

About 5 minutes later and he hasn't gotten any better, his fingers and feet have started to go numb and he curls in on himself. It's not like he can rely on the other stoned out people to help him, he's seen plenty of corpses just laying there after an overdose and he feels fear, not wanting to turn out like them. His mind feels fuzzy and mushy and before his eyes close he manages to mutter one last plea,

"John.. help..."

He goes limp and his arm hangs off the edge of the sofa, exposing all the scars from injecting himself with drugs, in his partially open hand is the list. Waiting for Mycroft.

"Oh Sherlock... my dear Sherlock. What did you do to yourself hm?"

A familiar, distant voice wakes Sherlock, he knows instantly he's not actually awake though. Because it's Jim's voice he's hearing. He's laying on his back and uses most of his strength to turn onto his side, just in case he throws up, he can't risk affecting his actual body by choking on vomit,

"I didn't mean... I thought.."

A finger presses gently against his lips and his eyes flutter open, seeing his minds version of Jim crouching next to him,

"Shh.. don't speak. You need to focus on getting this out of your system don't you? Especially if you want to live long enough for brother dear to find you."

Despite how much he seems to despise Mycroft, the thought of his brother finding his cold, limp body and the list, wrenches his heart. He doesn't want to hurt him, or John, like that. Especially not John.

"That's a good boy. Now, throwing it up seems like your best bet, though you don't have much control over your body right now, you were smart enough to pass out on your side. You just need to throw up, vomit, retch, whatever it is... you need to do it."

He watches Jim while he speaks, seeing a slight hint of sadness in his eyes, but he blinks and it's gone, replaced with the icy, dead look he's always had. He just chalks it down to his mind deteriorating from the drugs and despite the aches and pains, he drags himself up,

"H-how do I do that?"

He tries to get conscious enough to move his hand to his mouth, the first idea he has is to make himself throw up, by activating his gag reflex with his fingers. It takes a lot of effort and his hand pauses just before his lips before he feels Moriarty's arms wrap around his waist from behind,

"I'll help.. I owe you that."

He doesn't have the will or strength to fight him and just braces himself as Jim's hand reaches up and he pushes two fingers into Sherlock's mouth, far enough to make him gag and hopefully, throw up. It works and Sherlock's actual body leans over the sofa onto the floor as he vomits. Nobody pays him a second glance, it's normal.

"God... thank you."

He feels a little better and Jim's grip is gone so he looks around, recognising the location in his mind as the cage he kept Moriarty in, protecting the rest of his mind from him. Sherlock sees him sitting against the wall opposite him and nods to him, not getting a response though, it hurts a little but he brushes it off, it's just his mind and he has something more important to deal with.

"You're still suffering from the overdose, throwing up helped a little but not enough, you can't move much so all you have to do is hang on. Maybe your doctor will find you soon."

"John... he can't... he can't see me like this, it'll break his heart, I told him I was clean and he believed me, he's not going to love me if he finds me.. Mycroft needs to find me first."

He nearly snaps but drags himself over to Moriarty, leaning against his shoulder, tearing up a little,

"Can you help pass the time? It hurts..."

Jim smiles down at the detective, nodding and suddenly Sherlock is laying with his back on Moriarty's chest, the criminals arms holding him close,

"Of course darling. I can distract you from the pain until brother finds you."

His voice is sickly sweet but he won't do anything sexual, his mind won't let him, he just needs comfort and honestly, the sexual stuff can be left to John. Putting that aside, Sherlock lays back against him with his eyes closed and head tilted back while Moriarty's hands slowly trail over his entire body, first his chest and stomach, the nausea fades mostly and he smiles. Next is his shoulders, the tension there also fades and when Jim moves to his arms, the aching lessens. It's almost magical how Jim's touch is like morphine, ridding all the negative sensations in his body. Moriarty's hands slide down Sherlock's sides and down to his thighs, nothing sexual at all, it's just comforting and it's now where the curly head realizes he can feel his feet and hands again,

"Thank you Jim.. thank you so much."

"Jim? God Sherlock you really are delusional.."

His eyes snap open and he's in a hospital bed and everything hurts again, realising that it was actually morphine, not Jim. He squints at how bright it is and it takes a moment for his eyes to adjust to the figure sat next to him,

"Mycroft..."

His voice is croaky and weak so that's all he can manages for now. His eyes widen slightly when his brother holds up the note, its double sided due to how many drugs he mixed together. He hopes that it was only Mycroft who found him there and only him but he can't even ask him. He looks away, unable to face the upset and possible disappointment in his brothers eyes.

"All of this. Sherlock you should be dead, how you even lasted ten minutes with this in your system is beyond me. It's all gone now anyway, it took a while because they had to take it slow, your body was in shock. I'm... just glad you're alive..."

He hears a sigh from his brother, confused by his last comment, he'd never said anything like that before and it forced Sherlock to think. He does care, and what Sherlock did.. it scared Mycroft.

"Mycroft.. is.. did... John?"

He struggles to speak so he only says the mans name, knowing that Mycroft will understand. A brief nod of his head sends a jolt of nausea and pain through Sherlock, an instant image of John finding him and crying flashes in his mind and he sits up, managing to grab a bucket to throw up into.

"He cried. It's been... nearly two days since we found you. He hasn't slept, I had to get a nurse to convince him to sleep. He's just in the canteen now, but worried sick, we all are- were."

Sherlock debates turning up the morphine but doesn't do more than a glance, just the thought of it makes him sick now,

"I think.. I'm done. I'm going clean. I swear to you Mycroft, I swear to you, to John, Molly, Lestrade.. everyone."

His voice isn't any better but he needs to say this, it's important for him to know. And Sherlock is serious this time. He doesn't want to hurt anyone else because he was reckless and overconfident in himself. He places the bucket down and tries sitting up properly, his head still feels fuzzy and it reminds him of Moriarty and how he helped and comforted him while he was dying.

"I'll hold you to it Sherlock. I hoped to never see you like that ever again since... you know. This better be the last time. For John's sake."

"For John's sake.."

They sit in silence for a few minutes, Mycrofts eyes closed as he listens intently, for Sherlock's breathing. He's never done it much but after each time this has happened, he does it. It's his way of caring.

"You know.. Moriarty was the one who saved me. In my mind palace, he helped me and calmed me down. It was weird because I thought it'd be John who would do that in my mind, not him."

He speaks quieter and slower so he doesn't hurt and strain his throat. Mycroft looks up and is visibly concerned, and is about to say something when John appears in the doorway, letting out a huge sigh of relief and rushing to Sherlock's side, tears in his eyes,

"Sherlock I'm so glad you're awake! How have you been recovering?"

Sherlock reaches out for John's hand, who quickly takes it,

"I've been better. But I'm getting there.. Mycroft says you haven't slept? You shouldn't have done that.. you need sleep, that sounds hypocritical and I know I worried you.. so I don't have room to speak.."

He chuckles, though it sounds more like a wheeze and he winces from the pain in his throat, which John notices,

"Okay okay. I'll sleep when you rest. And you better stay in hospital this time, okay?"

Mycroft sighs and stands,

"Take care brother dear. I'll visit tomorrow, maybe with your other friends. Goodbye, Sherlock, John."

He smiles to them both and takes his leave, leaving the couple in silence. Sherlock is the first to break the silence,

"I'm sorry.. I'm sorry I did that to you John.. I told Mycroft- I'm quitting, honestly I am, I'm going clean. I don't want to put you through that again. I love you."

John has been holding back his tears but he doesn't care now and cries, gently holding Sherlock as he does,

"I love you too Sherlock."

"I won't go near any drugs ever again, I promise you. I regret hurting you like this. I won't even smoke."

He assures himself and John, promising to himself that he'll stay clean. Though a faint laugh in the back of his mind catches his attention,

" _I think we both know that's not quite true Sherly._ "


End file.
